Acceptable Risk
by jackwabbit
Summary: Sam, Teal'c, and Especially Daniel Whump. HC. Angst. Mild SJ UST to R. Friendship, especially DanielJack. Adventure. Minor Character Spotlights. TEAM.  Notes In Profile. Summary: Even Generals Get Out of the Office Sometimes.  They Just Need A Good Reason
1. Chapter 1

**Acceptable Risk**

Rated: R for violence, moderate language

Category: H/C; Whump-Sam, Teal'c, and Especially Daniel; Angst; Mild S/J UST to R; Friendship-especially Daniel/Jack; Action/Adventure; Minor Character Spotlights; TEAM

Season: Season Ten

Spoilers: Nothing Specific, Generally Everything Up To Season Ten

Summary: Even Generals Get Out of the Office Sometimes. They Just Need A Good Reason.

Note: Started as a simple adventure, morphed into my idea of a way things might 'end'.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

It was the warmth that always surprised him. It shouldn't have, but it did. No matter how cold his body was, no matter what else he felt, this was always warm, and somehow, it always puzzled that part of his brain that noticed such things.

Today was no exception. He wouldn't have known what happened, except for the warmth. Always the warmth. It ran down the left side of his face and neck like a soothing shower. It almost felt good, in a sick way, until the taste of it hit his throat and pain exploded in his head, reminding him that the warmth was his own blood.

Sticky, sweet, metallic, and cooling fast as it ran from a jagged gash over his eye.

Daniel Jackson barely had time to notice this before another crushing blow came barreling in from his right side. It landed, hard, in his ribs, and the crunch it produced brought a twisted, satisfied smile from the human on the other end of the short stick that now jabbed and prodded at the freshly broken ribs. A tortured gasp fought its way out of Daniel's lungs as the man dug a little deeper into the wound he had made and spoke to his victim.

"I'll ask you again. What are you doing here? Who sent you? What do you want?"

The breath to speak was nearly impossible for Daniel to gather, but after several laborious draws of oxygen, he managed to grind out a barely audible answer, in what he hoped was a passable imitation of the native dialect..

"I told you. We're explorers. We mean no harm. Just let us go, and we'll leave you alone."

The small man with the stick heard every word, for his vantage point just in front and below Daniel's chin. His only response was to laugh. Loudly. Daniel shut his eyes and turned away from the sound, trying to escape the only way he could.

"Lies! You will only escape this when you give me the truth. I have all the time in the world. You, however, do not. I suggest you rethink your answer."

With that, the smallish man viscously jabbed his short stick into the abdomen of his victim, and turned on his heel to leave. Daniel let out an involuntary cry, then bit his lip violently to stop the noise and would have slumped to the ground in pain if he had been able. As it was, all he could do was try to keep breathing as his head slowly sank to his chest and he mercifully lost consciousness. The thick chains binding his hands well above his head held him upright, and the man with the stick looked back over his shoulder before addressing two large men at the door.

"Take him down, and leave him with the others."

The guards merely grunted a response and did as they'd been told. The larger one removed a long brass key from somewhere in his clothing and undid the manacles holding Daniel's hands to the high ceiling. Both men laughed as the inert body fell to the floor. Giving the body a few kicks for good measure, the guards lifted the crumpled man and carried him the short distance to the cell where the others that had been captured with him were being held. As they threw him into the dark little room, a soft, ragged whisper seemed to come from his cracked and bleeding lips. The men did not understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable. It was the voice of a man pleading, begging for help, and putting his entire soul into his words. The men thought it was a sign that they were breaking their victim down, and they smiled to each other at the sound.

"Jack, please…"


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Half a galaxy away, a phone rang.

Major General Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill sat at his desk, with a thundercloud on his brow, reading his e-mail. He ignored the first two rings of the phone, staring hard at his computer monitor. The third ring seemed to startle him, like he'd just noticed the sound, and he jumped a little before testily answering the annoying ring.

"What?!"

"Is that any way to be answering the phone, General?"

The silver haired man immediately recognized the voice on the other end of the line and apologized. "Sorry, sir. I just…" His voice trailed off, and the caller finished for him.

"I take it you just read your e-mail?"

"Yes, sir. How did you know?"

"I received the same message about an hour ago."

"I see."

"I think you should know that there's no rescue mission planned."

"I see."

"The facility described by Colonel Mitchell appears to be impenetrable."

"Yes, sir."

"It would take more man and firepower than we have at our disposal to achieve success in this."

"Yes, sir."

"I know this is hard, Jack, but we have to concede they may already be lost to us."

"Yes, sir."

"The President is under pressure from the IOA, and they are unwilling to allocate resources to this at this time. We need a proper defense force for Earth right now."

"I understand, sir."

"Do you? Do you really know what I'm saying here, son?" The voice softened a bit when asking this last question, concern evident in the tone.

"Yes, sir, I do. But I also know that you wouldn't have called to tell me there's nothing I can do."

The smile coming through the phone was nearly visible. "You got that right. The President HAS authorized a small task force…unofficially, of course…maintaining plausible deniability…"

"Of course, sir."

"The task force mission would be to recon the situation and report back if a rescue is remotely possible. It is not to take any unnecessary risks or engage in the actual rescue attempt unless deemed absolutely mandatory by extreme circumstances by the commanding officer."

"I see."

"Jack, I'm too old and too long at a desk to do this…but…you know I have to tell you that you're not supposed to be involved…that the President considers you too valuable to be put in the line of fire…that if you choose to be involved, it should be in an advisory capacity…"

"I understand, sir."

"I know you do, son. But I also know what needs done here. Godspeed, and good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

With that, both men hung up their phones, and Jack O'Neill stood. He had a job to do. After a minute of pacing his office, he returned to his desk and re-read the e-mail he had received.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Generals Hammond and O'Neill:

Forgive the intrusion and use of personal e-mail accounts. I knew of no better way to reach you with this, and I didn't want it to wait until the official channels finally decide what to do about it.

SG-1 has been captured and detained on P5X-462 while on a routine mission for intel about how far the influence and word of the Ori has spread. Apparently this planet's people know nothing of the Ori, but this planet is home to an indigenous population of xenophobes, and there are two powerful factions on the planet that are constantly at each other's throats. They live in complete paranoia. Any stranger is thought to be an agent for the other side, and treated as such. The society embraces torture as a means of getting information, and if it doesn't work, they accept the death of the captives as proper punishment for the crime of trespassing.

This information was gleaned from Colonel Mitchell, who managed to escape and get through the gate to warn us of what has happened. Mitchell is in the infirmary now, with some substantial injuries, but he should be fine. It's not clear at this time what exactly occurred on the planet, but it seems that all of SG-1 was ambushed, with no time to defend themselves. They went along peacefully with their captors at first, and Dr. Jackson attempted to communicate with them. This is how we know a little bit about their society. Mitchell did not understand the language, but Jackson seemed fairly confident things were going well. However, he apparently made some sort of mistake and offended the natives, because shortly into their captivity, the guards began shooting randomly at objects near the team, like they were trying to scare them. Several team members were injured by stray fire and debris, Mitchell among them. He was shot with some sort of weapon, and fell into a shallow ravine, sustaining a head injury and losing consciousness. Thus he was not noticed or presumed dead when the rest of the team was taken away. He was able to get to the Stargate and gate home after recovering consciousness and finding himself alone. He has no idea where the others were taken, but suspects it is a high security facility that the team scouted before encountering the enemy. I have included all information on the facility that we have from Mitchell's accounts, and video footage he shot with a portable camcorder as an attachment to this message.

I'm not sure what you can do with this information, sirs, but I thought it was important that you know. It will take time for briefings and meetings and decisions to be made, and that is time that Dr. Jackson, Colonel Carter, and Teal'c may not have. The alien woman, Vala Maldoran, was not present for this mission, as her lack of immunity to Earth viruses has finally caught up with her. She has the chicken pox and has been temporarily relieved of duty.

If there's anything you can do to help, I leave it in your capable hands.

If there is anything I can do, I offer my assistance, in any capacity.

Thank you, sirs. I hope to hear from you soon.

Best Regards,

Walter

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After his conversation with General Hammond, Jack O'Neill knew there was only one thing to be done. He had to do this. Himself. No one else could go. This would be a semi-sanctioned, rogue extraction mission. Stargate personnel involved would likely be court-martialed for disobeying orders if they participated in this. Personnel outside the SGC, in 'normal' black ops units, were not cleared for involvement. This left only those, like himself, who didn't give a rat's ass if they were punished as long as it brought those people home, and who had the approval of some of those high enough in the government to get away with a few things.

Those people…his friends…his family…Jack's thoughts turned inward as memories of the times he had spent with his team came back to him unbidden. He knew only one thing at that moment.

He had to bring them back. He had to bring them home.

There was no way he could do it alone, though. He needed a team. A small one, but at least someone to watch his back on this. Which brought up his first problem. Everyone he trusted was on that damn planet.

Well, almost everyone.

Only one possible helper came to mind as O'Neill thought it over. He kept rejecting his only idea, trying to come up with someone else. There was no one. Finally, realizing that time was indeed of the essence, he reached for his coat and put it on. As he left the office, his secretary looked up quizzically from her desk. The General put on his best poker face and lied about his destination.

"Just stepping out for a bit, Cindy. I'll be back later."

"Yes, sir. You don't have any appointments this afternoon, anyway. Would you like me to clear any non-emergent meetings for tomorrow?"

O'Neill thought for a minute before answering.

"No. That's ok. Just leave things as they are." He didn't want to raise any suspicions about where he was really going and what he was about to do.

"Yes, sir."

Jack nodded his thanks to the younger woman and stepped into the hall. After a few minutes of escalator rides and twisting corridors, he left the Pentagon behind. When he reached his truck, he pulled a seldom used cel phone from the glove compartment and punched in a number he knew by heart. He turned up the radio, and waited for an answer.

The voice on the other end was jovial, far too loud, and surprised, but it carried a hint of seriousness in it that Jack's long practiced ears picked up.

"Hey, buddy! Long time, no talk! What's up?"

Jack's answer was to the point. "I need your help."

"No problems. Lady trouble again?" The small laugh that followed the question let O'Neill know his friend wasn't alone. He couldn't talk now.

O'Neill had no inclination to talk now anyway, so he ended things the only way he could.

"Shut up, Burke, and get your ass up to Minnesota ASAP."

"Can do, buddy. Can do."

Jack disconnected, and sighed. He hated to call Burke. It was a blow to his pride and brought up all sorts of sticky questions, but Burke was a pro, and Jack had nowhere else to go. Besides, when it came down to it, they were friends, and that counted for something, even with everything that had happened between them through the years. Jack's trust in Burke was not without reservations, but the younger man had proven his mettle once before, and Jack hoped that maybe, just maybe, luck would smile on the two of them again and they would bring Jack's friends back a second time.

He just prayed it wouldn't be too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Fifteen hours later, General O'Neill was gone. The responsible Air Force officer was nowhere to be found. In his place was Jack. Just Jack. A man with a missing family.

Appointments had been missed, questions were being raised, and there were no answers to be found. General O'Neill seemed to have dropped off the earth.

In reality, he hadn't. At least not yet.

At a small cabin in northwest Minnesota, a rented red SUV pulled up a long dirt drive. The cabin had been vacant a long time. It was far enough back in the woods that the few people who lived in these parts had forgotten about it and assumed it was unowned and falling down.

It wasn't.

Jack O'Neill stepped out of the SUV and looked around. There were fresh tire tracks leading to a small shed out behind the cabin, and he knew someone else was there. He walked around the cabin, ensuring nothing else was amiss, and then slowly opened the back door.

"Burke?" He called experimentally through the small house.

"Yep! Right here, Jack-o!"

Jack's old friend and occasional helper popped his head up from the other side of a short couch in the main room of the cabin. God, how Jack both hated and loved this man.

"I see you understood the message."

"Please. Like there was any other choice. You think I'd head to _your_ cabin up here? Seriously, what do you think I am? Stupid? You called me for help, so something big must be going down. That means something that needs to be kept quiet. So, here we are."

"Here we are." Jack laughed a little at the understatement of his friend.

"So, what's the deal, Jack?", Burke asked nervously. He was still a little leery of O'Neill, even after their last job together, and was more comfortable with work than small talk, so he wasted no time in cutting to the chase. "Shall we get down to business? It's colder than a witch's tit out there. Snow's coming. If we're going somewhere, let's get this show on the road."

"Burke, shut up and listen to me." The tone of O'Neill's voice left no room for argument.

Burke shut up.

Jack rubbed his hands together nervously for a second, then sat down across from the slightly younger man and took a deep breath, in preparation for a speech. "I'm going to tell you a story, Burke. It's a long one, but I'll make it as short as I can. Don't interrupt me, don't ask stupid questions, and just trust me that I'm not making it up, ok?"

Burke just looked at his friend with an odd, worried expression and nodded.

"Ok. You remember the 'Evil Dead' guy from Nicaragua?"

At Burke's continued nodding, Jack went on.

"Well, he was just the tip of the iceberg."

For the next three hours, Jack filled Burke in on everything he would need to know about the Stargate program to complete this mission. He knew he was breaking about a thousand rules, but he didn't care. Burke was his best chance to get his team back, so this had to be done. For his part, Burke was surprisingly quiet. So much so, that O'Neill wondered if he was even listening sometimes. When the General was finished, Burke just sat and stared for about a half a second. Then he broke into a huge grin and laughed out loud.

"I _knew_ you were into some crazy crap, man!!!"

O'Neill stood in frustration. "Burke! I'm serious! I need you to be ok with this one!"

Burke put his hands in front of his body and waved them a bit in a placating gesture.

"Hey, man, I never said you weren't. As far as I'm concerned, a rescue op's a rescue op. It doesn't matter if it's halfway around the world or halfway around the galaxy. If you can get me there and back, I'll help, no matter how we have to do it. Let's get our boys back."

Jack sighed. "Carter's a woman, Burke."

Burke leered mockingly. "Even better, Jack, even better."

O'Neill sighed again and rolled his eyes. Burke was shameless, but at least he was willing to help, no matter the cost. All that mattered to Jack was getting his friends back, and he'd take all the help he could get.

Burke suddenly stood and marched away, and it took Jack a second to realize he'd left the room. Jack followed him into the back bedroom of the cabin and found him kneeling by an old hope chest. Jack watched as Burke pushed the hope chest aside and pulled up a hinged panel in the old dusty floorboards.

Burke noticed the taller man looking down on him and shot a rakish grin upwards.

"So, Jack…what do we need? Identities? Weapons? Supplies? Got it all right here."

O'Neill shook his head in wonder. "You still keep this place stocked?"

Burke looked offended. "Of course. Never know when you might need this stuff."

Jack just laughed and sat down, joining Burke as he rifled through the contents of the hidden compartment. Before long, the afternoon sun began to slit through the windows.

Time to get this show on the road.

XXX

That night, one Jeffrey McAllister and his friend Sean Johnson boarded a small chartered jet for Colorado. There were still a lot of backwoods pilots in northwestern Minnesota, and for the right amount of cash, they'd fly anywhere, no questions asked. Each passenger carried one small bag, and no one asked what was in them. Jeff and Sean liked these arrangements just fine.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

After landing at a small private airport and going on their way in a taxi briefly, Sean and Jeff paid off the driver and walked to a nearby bus stop to wait for the next ride.

A city bus took them to the closest stop to their destination, and the two men descended the stairs and walked along the road quietly for a mile or so. When there was no traffic, as if by some unspoken command, both men suddenly veered off into the dense forest on the side of the highway. They walked another half mile or so, then stopped.

The shorter one looked up at the taller. "You ready?"

A deadly serious voice answered. "Been ready. Let's do this."

Their bags were dropped, and Jeff and Sean discarded their khaki slacks and Polo shirts. The luggage was opened, and both men donned camouflage jackets and pants, along with vests for holding packs and supplies. Casual loafers were tossed aside in favor of military boots. Sidearms were holstered. The shorter man assembled a light shotgun, and tied a black bandana around his balding head. The taller one quickly checked over his P-90 and pulled a green baseball cap low on his brow.

Suddenly, two middle aged men who could have been mistaken for mild-mannered professors looked anything but. Their faces clouded over with a seriousness that betrayed their task, and they straightened up unintentionally. Their discarded clothes were shoved back into their bags, and left in the woods.

The men marched off to where they needed to go, keeping up a brisk pace.

XXX

Jack knew they'd be expecting him to do something like this. He knew the IOA would have men on all the maintenance and ventilation access points on the mountain. He knew that he and Burke would have their work cut out for them.

There was only one way they were getting to the Stargate.

Walter.

There was only one guard on the entry point Jack had chosen. He was easily incapacitated, but the fun was only just beginning. He and Burke still had to get down twenty eight levels to the gate room, and Jack had one minor detour to make first.

Thank God for Walter.

After re-allocating the guard's radio, Jack switched to a channel previously sent to the Sergeant from an anonymous spam e-mail account. He could only hope Walter had understood.

Jack thumbed the radio, making five short bursts of static.

Two came back at him. 'Oh, Walter,' thought Jack. 'You're worth your weight in gold.'

After getting through the outer perimeter, it was oddly easy to navigate the SGC, with Walter whispering short commands and helping O'Neill and Burke avoid detection. It was very early morning, and a skeleton crew was on, which also didn't hurt.

Although time was of the essence and Walter voiced a small objection to the General's actions, the sergeant understood when O'Neill suddenly asked where Cameron Mitchell was recovering. Walter allowed Jack his detour, knowing why it was important, and helped guide Jack and Burke to Mitchell's personal quarters, where the Colonel had been moved that morning after a brief infirmary stay. Mitchell was still pretty beat up, but he'd live.

Cameron Mitchell was asleep when O'Neill arrived. The General didn't care. He assessed the young man's injuries, confirming none were life-threatening at this time, then woke the Colonel, none too gently, with a shake of the shoulders.

"Mitchell!"

The younger officer looked up sleepily for a moment before realizing who was standing next to his bed. When he recognized the figure, his eyes grew wide, and panic infused his features. He tried to sit up, but succeeded only in knocking an empty cup off his bedside table.

"Easy, airman."

"General O'Neill. Sir. Um…"

Mitchell was fully awake now, and suddenly he couldn't look at the man in front of him or even speak. He took in the General's appearance, the time on the clock on the wall, and the second figure in the shadows of his quarters in an instant. He knew why General O'Neill was here, and he felt like it was his fault.

"I need to know what you know." Jack wasted no time getting down to business.

Detailing the mission was easier for Mitchell than actually talking to the General about what had happened, so he looked at a spot on the ceiling and told his tale. There wasn't much variation from what Jack already knew from Walter, but a few details did give the older man a better picture of what he would be facing when he gated to P5X-462 to try to save his friends.

When the tale was told and Jack was satisfied that he had as much information as he was likely to get, he turned and began to leave without so much as a good bye to the man in the bed.

Mitchell called after the retreating back.

"Look, sir…I wanted to go after them. I did. I just…"

Jack's teeth ground together and his shoulders tightened. A ball of rage was building inside of him, and he didn't trust himself to turn around. He paused and answered through tight lips.

"You did the right thing, Colonel. If you hadn't gated back, we'd have no intel at all on this and, in all probability, you would've all been dead before anything could have been done about it."

And the funny thing was, the General meant it. He knew that from a tactical standpoint, Mitchell had done everything as he should have. It was what had to be done. Mitchell hadn't known what was going on when he woke up on 462. For all he knew, the rest of SG-1 might have been back on Earth by the time he got here. It really was the smart play. Too bad that knowledge didn't stop Jack from thinking how much he wished that it was this Colonel that was stuck in some filthy prison on some God-forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere rather than _his_ Colonel and best friends. Jack felt a little guilty for his lack of sympathy for Mitchell, who did have a twisted ankle, a nasty shrapnel-type wound to his abdomen, and multiple lacerations as well as a concussion, but he couldn't allow himself the luxury of caring right now. Jack radioed Walter that he'd done what he needed to do, and continued walking without looking back.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

When Burke first stuck his head out an air-conditioning duct in the briefing room, the loaded muzzle of a Beretta met him. Behind it was a slightly bemused looking Walter Harriman.

"Who are you?," demanded Walter in a calm, calculating voice.

A disembodied voice from behind Burke answered for him. "He's with me, Walter, let him out. Neither one of us is as skinny as we used to be."

"General O'Neill?"

"Just Jack, Walter, just Jack." The tall officer levered his way out of the shaft after Burke.

"Yes, sir. Um…we don't have a lot of time. I estimated your arrival time and drugged the current gate technician on duty to allow us access to the gate, but she won't be out long, and…"

"You did what?" Jack looked at Walter with a mixture of shock and admiration. If he'd ever had any doubts about the man, they were gone now, replaced with a newfound respect.

Walter looked up sheepishly and shrugged. "You do what you have to do, sir."

"No arguments here. Let's go. Is the gear ready?"

"Yes, sir…already in the gateroom, sir. Fully loaded MALP with everything you should need."

"What would we do without you, Walter?"

Walter stopped for a second, and seemed to consider the question. A small smile played across his lips, like he was tempted to say what he really thought, but it passed.

"Just doing my job, sir."

Jack grinned at the technician and both men headed out to dial up the gate. Only then did they realize Burke had been standing stock still and staring out the windows at the Stargate the entire time they'd been talking.

"Burke!" O'Neill called out.

The younger man didn't move, but softly mumbled to himself. "Huh. You weren't shitting me…"

"Nope. Now let's go. Don't worry-everyone has that reaction at first. You'll be fine." Jack then dragged Burke out of the room by his elbow and all three men left together.

Jack touched Walter's arm when they parted ways at the steps to the control room.

"Walter."

"Sir?"

"Thank you. You didn't have to do this. I know you'll pay for it. It means a lot…um...anyway…I just wanted to say thanks." The General looked uncomfortable and stumbled over the last part, struggling, as always, with his emotions.

Walter looked back at his former CO and a hard flint appeared behind his soft eyes. He looked like a man transformed. His next words put steel into Jack's already hardened resolve.

"You just bring them back, sir. Just bring them back."

Jack grinned a tiny grin and answered with hard flint of his own.

"Count on it."

There was nothing left to be said, so Burke and Jack continued to the gateroom while Walter began dialing the gate using a non-detection program he had developed years ago that would allow him a few minutes of undetected open wormhole time. He'd never had to use his program, but he had made in case of circumstances like these, and he was glad he had it. He was also glad he wasn't the one O'Neill was after.

As the two camouflaged men entered the gateroom, Burke was still in shocked awe, staring up at the giant ring with unmasked amazement. His quiet alone clearly indicated his shock.

Jack, however, immediately flew into a spitting mad rage.

The object of his anger was another officer, and as Jack screamed at him, his face was close enough to shower the man with saliva.

"What the HELL are you doing here? This is my op! My risk! You could be court martialed for even knowing about it! Get the fuck out of here! This isn't any of your business!" This went on for what seemed an eternity, with the hard-nosed General coming out more and more with every word. Many a man wouldn't have been able to stand up to such a verbal beating.

The officer didn't move, however. He didn't even react. He merely stood, impassive, and let Jack's fire burn itself out while the gate dialed. When the wormhole opened, Jack's head snapped sideways to look at the event horizon, and the berated soldier took his chance to speak.

"It's not an option, sir. I'm going with you on this. It's my choice, and my risk to take. You either take me, or you don't go. All I have to do is pick up a phone, and this op is over before it's even started."

Jack's hands clenched into fists, and his fingers twitched to grab his pistol. It crossed his mind that he could just wound this man and take off, thus saving him from his own foolish involvement in this. He didn't have to kill him. It was Burke who brought Jack out of this homicidal train of thought, by laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Jack…we could always use the help. If he's here, seems to me he'd be a good hand…" Burke was still staring at the now open wormhole, but seemed to have recovered enough of his wits to use them.

Jack seethed quietly for a few more seconds before turning to the man in question. "Fine, but Reynolds…I swear I'll get you for this. I don't like being kept in the dark."

The soldier had the good sense to look slightly abashed. "Sorry, sir, but we knew it was the only way you'd accept a little help."

Jack looked sharply at the other officer.

"_We_?"

"Yes, sir. Walter, myself, and…Siler." The last name was said quietly and with some hesitation.

O'Neill merely sighed, rubbing one hand across his forehead. "Siler's in on this?"

Another voice rose up from behind the MALP. "Yes, sir. Wouldn't miss it."

"SILER!?!"

A blonde, rumpled head of hair appeared from the other side of the MALP. "Yes, sir."

Jack took in Siler's field dress outfit and his level of armament in a heartbeat.

"Shit! You are not going on this! Get out of here, Siler!"

"Sir, you're going to need me out there. Any one of you three Jarheads know how to repair a DHD or even an IDC transmitter? I don't think so. Colonel Carter is likely to be incapacitated, and you'll need someone who can bail you out if things go south in the tech department."

Jack's blood boiled at Siler's insubordination and intentional reference to the Marines, as he was a Flyboy through and through, but he knew he didn't really have time to debate this, and Siler did have a point, as much as it pained him to admit it and to think that he might not have the services of his usual techie. A brief wave of nausea hit Jack as he realized again that they might be too late to save SG-1. He really didn't want to know if he could handle the deaths of Carter or Teal'c, or if he could face losing Daniel again, and the thought of losing them all…Jack's stomach clenched violently, but he managed to hide it well. Then the weakness left as quickly as it had come, and he merely nodded his head as Walter called down from the control room.

"General O'Neill? We've been detected. Better get out of here."

With a loose but meaningful salute up to the sergeant, Jack nodded to the three others in his little rag-tag team and started up the ramp. He barely heard Reynold's voice follow him as he entered the event horizon.

"Don't worry, newbie, it's not too bad."

Jack smiled a little as he remembered his first trip through the gate, and hoped Burke would get his feet under him fast. He was going to have to where they were going. Jack's imagination was still running wild with pictures of what they might find (if they found their people at all), and what his brain came up with wasn't a pretty sight. Not by a long shot.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Jack's imagination wasn't far off. If anything, it wasn't brutal enough, and that was saying something. Back on P5X-462, or as Samantha Carter had labeled it, the final level of hell, things had gone from bad to worse.

Carter was relatively unscathed, and felt like shit for it. She was eaten up with guilt for being so lucky. Since Daniel was the only one of them who could speak the native language, albeit not extremely well, the guards and higher ups unmercilessly continued to choose him for their little 'interrogations'. It was taking it's toll, and Sam wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. Her own cuts, bruises, hunger, and thirst were minor inconveniences compared to what Daniel had had to endure.

Right now, Daniel was off with the guards again, and while no noises came from where they had taken him, Sam knew nothing good was going on in there. Before their captors realized she was of no use to them, they had been equal opportunity in the beating department, and she knew what they were capable of. She had gotten off pretty light, but around here that still meant a few broken ribs and a lot of hurt. Teal'c had been in a similar position, but because of his greater strength, he had weathered the blows pretty well. He had tried repeatedly to get the guards to take him instead of Daniel, but it never worked…and now…now he was unable to do much of anything.

The guards had taken everything except their clothes when they locked them in this hellhole, and now, barefoot and shivering, Teal'c was in desperate need of Tretonin.

Sam tried to comfort his sweating body as he shook, but it was no use. She mopped sweat off his brow and cradled his head to keep him from striking it against the walls or floor. She barely heard him when he began to whisper.

"Major Carter."

Sam didn't even think of correcting him, but she knew that Teal'c would never use a wrong title for anyone if he was lucid. She was afraid she was losing him right then and there.

"I'm here, Teal'c."

"Major Carter…please…if the time comes…you must escape, even if I still draw breath. This will be slow for me, and I may linger, but promise me that if you get a chance, you will run. Only you can save Dr. Jackson and get word to the SGC of what has happened here."

"Teal'c, I won't leave you…you're going to be fine."

At her words, the Jaffa seemed to draw strength from a brief flare of anger, and his voice rose in volume slightly. "I am NOT, Samantha Carter. You must escape! Promise me!"

Carter knew there was no reason to argue, and also that Teal'c was unlikely to remember this conversation, so she said the only thing she could. "Ok. I promise, Teal'c. I promise."

That seemed to settle Teal'c down, and he relaxed into a fitful sleep. Carter was reminded of another time when she had lied to comfort a then dying man, and thoughts of Jack O'Neill came unbidden to her mind. She'd missed him every day since he'd been re-assed to Washington, and even though her rational mind told her there was no way help was coming (she had seen Mitchell fall after being shot, and no one else knew where they were or what had happened) she clung to hope like a lifeline. If anyone could get them out of here, it was General O'Neill. The words she'd heard Daniel utter days before in a tortured gasp came crashing into her consciousness then, and she lifted the same prayer.

"Jack, please…"


	7. Chapter 7

_**Warning: This Chapter Contains Somewhat Graphic Scenes of Human Injury.**_**  
**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The heaves would not subside. No matter how hard the chained man tried, bile and saliva and blood violently expelled themselves out his esophagus and down the front of his chest. His stomach pumped non-stop, and with every contraction, fire shot from broken ribs through the rest of his body. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. His cries had stopped a lifetime ago.

Daniel Jackson knew he was dying. He couldn't try anymore. There was nothing left to give. His world was dark-his eyelids had swollen shut long ago. His tongue was swollen and stuck to the roof of his mouth. When he vomited, his mouth barely opened. Fluid just trickled from the corners of his mouth and over the rest of him to the floor. Blood seeped from a hundred wounds. His short brown hair was spiky with clotted blood and sweat. His shoulders burned from supporting his weight. His arms were suspended high over his head and his feet just barely touched the ground. Every breath threatened to be his last, as his entire body had to be lifted up from the force of his diaphragm alone in order for his lungs to inflate. The only sound that reached him was the dull pounding that was his own pulse, and the rush of his own blood in his ears. It seemed to him that the sounds were getting softer and softer every minute. He longed for them to stop entirely. He longed for release. Long before this point, he had tried to open his mind to the possibility of ascension again, but he knew something about that wasn't right. Somehow, he had known it wasn't his path this time. And now…now he was too tired. His mind would not cooperate. He was just so tired, and everything hurt so bad. He just wanted it to stop. He prayed, with whatever thought he had left, for it to just end.

The short human who had done this to him smiled one last time at his prey. He knew the end would be soon, and he was trying to decide what to do with this one. The guards did like their fun, but something about this one gave him great pleasure, and he wanted to be the one to deliver the blow that killed this man.

The guards were antsy and finally asked what was on their minds. "Master, may we have him? Are you finished? Or should we put him away again?"

The little man turned and grinned wickedly, his decision made. "No, my children. Take him down, but leave him here for me. I will be back shortly to finish him off. Leave him alone."

Disappointment was evident on the guard's faces, but they did as they were told as their master left the room.

The body that had once been Daniel Jackson fell to the floor like so much laundry.

XXX

Daniel thought he was dead. He drifted downwards…almost softly…but only for a second. Then, a hard jolt up through his feet and legs and then through the rest of his body told him he was still among the living, at least for now. His fall ended with a vicious blow to the head, and the archeologist mercifully lost consciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Three miles away, under cover of darkness, four men and a strange looking giant metallic bug emerged from a glowing circle of water. As the men emerged, two immediately crouched and ran to take flanking positions on either side of the stone ring that supported the water. One followed closely behind the giant bug, turning his head rapidly from side to side and scanning the perimeter, and one just stood and shivered on the steps of the stone circle, but only for a second.

Burke shook his head a tiny bit, realizing his bizarre little trip was over, and he, too, hit the deck. He located O'Neill, the new guy named Reynolds, and the techie Siler within seconds. The travel may have been something right out of an old science-fiction movie, but now this was just another mission, and that he could do. He didn't know these two new men, but Jack seemed to trust them, and that was enough for him. Besides, an occasional insubordination and lack of respect for the wishes of senior officers to the point of disregarding orders and attempting an ill-conceived and likely unsuccessful rescue bumped them up several notches in his book. He was glad to have the help.

The group vacated the area around the Stargate as quickly as possible, and found a heavily wooded area to conceal the MALP and their gear. Reynolds, O'Neill, and Burke geared up with enough ordinance to take out a fortress and prepared to head out on the hike that would take them to the location where it was believed SG-1 was being held.

O'Neill spoke briefly to the others and then turned to the remaining man.

"Siler."

"Sir."

"You stay here. Set up a defensive perimeter with Claymores and C-4. I know it's just you, but you have to hold the gate. Do whatever you have to do. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be here, sir. Holding the door open for ya."

"Back in a flash, Siler."

"Yes, sir."

As Siler began to unpack what he would need, the other three men began the walk that hopefully would take them to SG-1.

XXX

They marched mostly in silence, only using the briefest of commands when absolutely necessary, and hoping like hell no one had noticed the active wormhole in the darkness. Night was their friend now, and Siler's, too, but if someone had seen the Stargate activate, they were all in trouble. This whole party would be for nothing.

They covered ground quickly, and before long the trio reached their destination: a cluster of single story buildings surrounded by low brush. The place wasn't exactly Fort Knox, but it was functional enough as a prison. Fancy technology wasn't always better in terms of security, and this place had old school safeguards in spades. The buildings were clustered around a wide open courtyard, and tall towers rose from each corner of the yard, presumably to house guards. All of the buildings were far enough apart to minimize dark passageways and tight corners. The brush was cleared away from the compound for at least 30 yards in all directions, thus minimizing the chance of an undetected approach. Anyone coming in was unprotected while crossing that no man's land of bare earth. The first streaks of light were starting to creep up the horizon. Without knowing precisely how long nights were on this planet, Jack had guessed as best he could, and for now, things seemed to be going his way. He had wanted to arrive just before dawn, when activity would be lowest in most prisons in the galaxy. Some things never changed.

As the men crouched in some low bushes at the perimeter of the compound, Burke and Reynolds exchanged worried glances. They might have been strangers to one another a short time ago, but both were seasoned combat veterans, and both didn't like something they were seeing.

O'Neill was nervous. Worried. Jumpy. He didn't look like a man who had done this more times than should ever be allowed in any one lifetime. He looked like a new recruit. New recruits make mistakes. Mistakes get people killed. Both men knew this one was personal to Jack, but neither wanted to broach the subject with him. The two younger officers held each other's gaze for innumerable seconds, then finally Reynolds flicked his eyes and head away and toward Jack's back ever so briefly. Burke shook his head negative ever so slightly, but then his eyes moved from Reynolds to Jack, too. He sighed and bit the metaphorical bullet.

"Jack?" Burke spoke quietly and laid one hand on his friend's shoulder.

As expected, O'Neill jumped and looked suddenly at Burke like he had forgotten he was there.

"Hey, Jack, buddy, calm down. We'll get 'em, ok? We'll get 'em."

Jack shook his head as if to clear it and seemed to come back to his senses from an imaginary world of death and loss. "Yeah. Sure. Ok. Let's do this."

Reynolds and Burke shared one last worried glance and then turned to Jack to decide how they were going to go about actually getting into the son of bitch in front of them.

XXX

The decision was made for them. After slowly working their way around the 'back' of the collection of buildings, it was pretty obvious which one had been used most recently for containment of 'guests'. Most of the buildings seemed to be vacant, like this was a long forgotten camp, but footprints showed in the dirt by the doors of two structures, and one was definitely quarters for the prison personnel. As luck would have it, there was a door on the forested side of the building of interest. It was too good to pass up, and Jack, Burke, and Reynolds sprinted across the gap in cover one at a time, under each other's watchful eyes. Fingers were tight on triggers, waiting to lay down cover fire, but none was needed. Their approach went seemingly undetected. That should have been their first clue that things were not going to go well, but as there appeared to be no other way in, the three men tried the door.

It was locked, of course.

The three men knew it was time to announce their arrival. O'Neill looked at the other two for confirmation and when he received two nods back, he stuck a wad of C-4 on the door and stepped back to blow it wide open. Fifteen seconds later, three men from Earth ran through a fiery hole in the wall and took up cover positions inside.

Good thing, too. All hell broke loose the second they were in. The locals apparently had expected this. Weapons fire broke out all around. There were staff blasts, bullets, and zat discharges flying around all at once. These people were obviously scavengers of technology, using whatever they could steal from their victims.

Suddenly, Reynolds' voice rang out above the cacophony.

"GRENADE!!! FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!"

Burke and O'Neill immediately took cover. Reynolds launched three grenades in rapid succession into the crowd of hostiles.

That much firepower was more than the enemy group could handle, and for just a moment, after the explosion, all was eerily quiet. O'Neill was the first to recover from the nearby blast.

"Alright people, let's move. We don't have much time now that they know we're here."

Reynolds casually stepped over a body and started to follow Jack, but Burke didn't move. After a second, his voice weakly reached the other two men.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" O'Neill turned to look at his friend, thinking he'd just caused another good man to die.

"I'm hit."

"How bad?" Jack retreated two steps and knelt beside the younger man, while Reynolds kept watch for any more hostiles.

Burke just smiled a sad little grin. "I'll live, but I'm not up to snuff for this. I'll slow you down. You have to leave me."

Jack clenched a fist in frustration. "Dammit, Burke, get up! We can't leave you here."

Burke looked up with murder in his eyes. "You can, and you will. Go! Save your friends. I've got your six. GO!"

Jack looked down at the clean bullet hole in his friend's leg and knew Burke was right. There was no way he could keep up. "I'll be back for you, I promise."

"Just GO, Jack. Go!"

Burke shoved O'Neill backward with one hand as he yelled.

Jack looked sadly at his old comrade for a second, then handled Burke a second sidearm before taking off at a dead run, never looking back. Reynolds followed.

Command decisions are a bitch.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

The walls suddenly shook. Samantha Carter had been sleeping next to Teal'c on the floor of their cell when it happened. Instantly awake and instantly recognizing the sound, she was on her feet and looking around before the rumble died away completely.

Someone had hit the compound with explosives. And they were close.

She didn't care who it was. She only hoped they would give her some chance for escape. A small spark of hope ignited in her chest. Maybe she could get everyone out, somehow.

Provided Daniel was still alive…

XXX

The hallways and passages of the prison were a maze, and O'Neill and Reynolds were soon disoriented and confused about where to go to properly search the premises. They had just taken a right hand turn down a long, straight corridor when a voice rang out that would have stopped Jack O'Neill dead anywhere in the universe.

"SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Carter." Jack mumbled under his breath at first, not trusting his ears. Then he opened his mouth fully and let loose a tortured question that would have woken the dead. "CARTER!?!"

"Turn around, sir! Down here!"

Reynolds and Jack about faced and headed in the opposite direction. About 30 yards down the hall, they found Carter, beat to hell but standing and able to run, locked in a small solid walled cell. The only access to the room was a tiny window in the top half of the door. Somehow, she had seen them through it and called out for help.

Jack's voice ground out an order. "Carter, get back-we're blowing the door!"

Reynolds made short work of the door with another C-4 brick, and Jack ran into the cell like a man possessed. Carter was covering Teal'c with her body in the back of the cell. Dust and small pieces of shrapnel rained from the air like confetti.

Jack was instantly kneeling beside his friends, and shaking his former 2IC. "Carter! You ok?"

Sam looked up, slightly disoriented, and answered shakily. "I'll be fine, sir. Teal'c, though…no symbiote…Tretonin…?"

Jack grinned slightly and started digging in his pockets. "Got just the thing."

O'Neill produced a pen syringe and immediately jabbed it into the thigh of his muscular friend.

Carter was grateful, but knew this wasn't so simple. It never was. "Sir, we don't have time for that to work well enough for him to walk out of here."

Jack looked annoyed at her statement of the obvious. "I know, Carter!" Then he addressed the empty doorway behind him. "REYNOLDS! Get in here!"

Colonel Reynolds stepped inside the cell from his post outside the door and looked at Jack expectantly.

"Sir?"

"Take T and Carter. Get them out of here. Get Burke on your way out if you can."

To his credit, Reynolds didn't waste time arguing. He merely nodded to Jack and addressed Carter. "Colonel, let's go."

As Sam started to leave, Jack's arm reached out and stopped her. "Carter, where's Daniel?"

"Down the hall, I don't know how far…interrogation room. Sir…it might not be good…he's bad off, sir…I don't know if…" Her voice trailed off, but no more words were needed anyway. Jack knew the score. He swallowed rising bile and let go of Carter's wrist.

"Well, I'm gonna go find out…you ok to get out of here?" There was a tiny hint of something more than concern in Jack's voice, and his hand briefly reached out again to touch Sam's arm as he spoke.

Carter's eyes snapped up to meet the General's then, and what O'Neill saw brought a quick smile to his lips. The blue orbs were filled with relief at seeing him and getting a fighting chance to get out of there mixed with complete understanding of why he had to go now and leave her to the fates. When Carter spoke, her voice was hard as steel, and her eyes seemed to turn to ice. "Yes, sir. Go get Daniel, sir. Bring him home."

"Damn right, Carter. Now get the hell out of here. Go."

Nothing else was said. Reynolds supported a very groggy Jaffa and half drug him out into the hall while Carter took his weapon and began leading the way out and covering them.

O'Neill headed the other way. Toward his friend. If Daniel was dead, Jack knew he wasn't leaving this place. He would take out as many of these bastards as he could, and then die trying to take more. He would make them pay for this, even if he died trying. He was tired of losing his friends, and decided this would be the last time, no matter what.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

Weapons fire was ringing out all over the compound when Jack finally yanked open the door that gave him what he was looking for. The sight that met him physically knocked him back a half step and caused his stomach to retch involuntarily for just a second.

His dearest friend lay broken and bloodied on the floor. He wasn't moving. He very much looked dead. Jack stood perfectly still, and for just one second, he heard and saw nothing other than Daniel Jackson. Beautiful, brilliant Doctor Daniel Jackson…lying on a cold stone floor like so much refuse...bloodied, covered in vomit and urine, flies already beginning to hover over him.

"Oh, Daniel…" The words came out unbidden, and seemed to snap Jack out of his trance. He ran to his friend, knelt, and checked for a pulse. At first, there was nothing…but then…ever so faintly, a small throb repeated itself twice, then three times, under Jack's fingers. Daniel's chest moved ever so slightly in a shallow breath. He was alive! Jack's heart did a somersault, and his objectives changed dramatically. He had to get out of here, so he could get Daniel some help. ASAP.

A small scuffling sound behind him stopped Jack's elation and froze him in place. He slowly turned to see what was there and was met with a crushing blow of knuckles across his face. His weapon was knocked away, and he found himself in hand-to-hand combat in a matter of seconds.

Jack recovered his balance quickly and rolled on his shoulder to prevent a bad fall. He came up spitting mad and fighting hard. The short little man across from him was made of venom and acid, but he never stood a chance beside Jack's unbridled rage and certain knowledge that this piece of shit had tortured his friend. The fight was short, but vicious. Both men landed a few blows, but O'Neill gained the upper hand with a leg sweep that brought the smaller man down in a heap. The General was on him instantly, and before he knew it, his bare knuckles were scraping the stone floor while tears streamed down his face and profanity streamed out his mouth. There was nothing left of the enemy's neck. Jack had chosen his point of attack well, and had simply beaten the man to death in an emotional release that was apocalyptic in its magnitude. After several minutes of blind violence, Jack gradually wound down and stopped hitting the lifeless corpse, but he seemed incapable of movement. He sat on the non-moving chest and stared, unseeing, into space.

An explosion outside made him jump and suddenly he remembered why he was here.

_Daniel_.

He scooped his friend up with some effort and lifted him into a fireman's carry. There was no more time to waste on these sadistic, pathetic excuses for human beings.

As Jack made his way out of the complex, he didn't encounter resistance. It surprised him, but he was grateful. Daniel wasn't a featherweight, and the older man was struggling a little to carry him. If it hadn't been for adrenaline and an overwhelming sense of panic that he might still lose Daniel on the way, Jack knew he wouldn't have been able to carry his friend at all.

He was almost out of the building when two guards appeared in front of him in a long hallway. Jack stumbled and nearly ran into the men as they popped out of a side passageway, directly into his path. With a curse, Jack realized his weapon was still laying on the stone floor in Daniel's cell, for all intents and purposes miles away. He knew this was the end. There was nowhere to run. The guards carried menacing spiked staffs and crossbow-like weapons. Jack didn't have a chance, but he refused to give up. His head began to swivel quickly, looking for anything he could use to defend himself and his friend at this close range. There was nothing. No options. Jack prepared for the worst, and lifted a silent prayer for help to anyone who was listening.

Suddenly, blue lightning danced across the guards and froze their features into masks of perpetual surprise. When their bodies fell to the floor, O'Neill was puzzled. There was no one around. No source of the zat fire. He decided it didn't matter, though, and began to step over the fallen enemies. As he did, a hand brushed his thigh and a laughing voice rang out.

"Ray guns, too??? That's _CRAZY_!"

Burke. He was holed up in a recess in the wall about five feet from where the guards had appeared. Blood was freely flowing from the wound in his right leg, and his face was pale and sweaty. He took in the condition of the man draped across Jack's shoulder and asked the obvious question.

"Still with us?"

Jack's answer surprised him. "Yeah. Barely. Can you walk? I can't help you…did you see Reynolds?"

Burke shook his head. "No, but I think he's out. I heard too much fire outside for him not to be. I couldn't hold my position after you guys headed out, so I tried to move around, causing as much damage as possible. Guess I was just in the right place at the right time to save your skin, though, huh?"

"Thanks. Come on…let's go." Jack handed Burke one of the spiky staffs that was obviously not meant to be a crutch, but that would work fine in that capacity, and kept going. With him carrying Daniel, he was about the same speed as the injured Burke, and they made slow progress, but they eventually made it outside again.

It was obvious that the firefight had followed Carter and Reynolds and Teal'c into the woods. By the time Jack and company had to cross the open space around the compound to get into cover, no one was around. They made it into the brush without any more trouble, but couldn't go any farther without a rest.

"Jack?" Burke's voice was labored and far too quiet.

"Yeah?" Jack didn't sound so good, either.

"I don't think we're going to make it, realistically…it's too far for us in this condition."

"Shut up, Burke. Sit down for two minutes, then let's go." O'Neill set Daniel gently on the ground and leaned against a tree as Burke collapsed in a heap. When Jack caught his breath, he stated the obvious. "We can't stop again. You know as well as I do that if we stop, we'll never get up, and none of us can afford that."

Jack's eyes traveled the length of Daniel's body, assessing his injuries, and he knew time was still of the essence. O'Neill checked his friend's pulse again, and was glad to see it was a little stronger, somehow.

The two men started their journey again when exactly two minutes had passed. They were still slow, but even the brief rest had recharged them enough for them to be a little more optimistic about their odds. Jack was still carrying Daniel over his shoulders when a small noise made him stop suddenly and change his friend's position.

Burke watched as Jack shifted the body from a fireman's carry to a forward grip that one would use for a small child. The bloodied man was murmuring quietly to himself and Jack was murmuring back. Burke couldn't hear the words, but he didn't need to. Jack O'Neill had once limped back to base with him in tow from a mission gone wrong, and Burke could imagine what was being exchanged between the two men. He was still worried that the archeologist he'd met once before might die, but he was glad that if it happened, the young man wouldn't be alone.

Jack was still worried, too, but his friend's voice, broken as it was, helped to quicken his steps and lift his spirits higher than they had been since he first found out about this mess. Daniel's spiky, rough, blood soaked hair ground into Jack's cheek, rubbing it raw, but he didn't notice as he whispered anything that came to mind to help his friend stay with him.

"Sh…Dannyboy…it's gonna be ok. I got ya. Don't worry. Stay with me, ok, buddy?"

Jack's voice was surprisingly soft and gentle as a warm breeze despite his effort to carry Daniel and double time it to the gate. While his words made no sense and weren't understandable for the most part, a small smile twitched Daniel's lips, and Jack knew he understood. He was going to be ok, and Jack knew it…if only he could get him home.

Jack's whispers continued, becoming a mantra, repeated as much to himself as to Daniel. He was chanting softly, keeping himself going. "I got ya, Danny. We're gonna make it. Just a little farther, ok? Hang in there. I got ya. We're gonna make it."

Neither O'Neill nor Burke knew how long they marched like that, but they didn't stop again, and suddenly they could see the stargate through gaps in the trees beside them.

Jack's radio crackled to life just as new explosions rocked the landscape.

"Jack, this is Reynolds! Where the hell are you?! We've got hostiles all around us. Open wormhole, but Siler's down. We're ok, but we can't hold the gate for long!"

Burke answered on his own radio, filling in for Jack, who had his hands more than full. "We're coming in now, Reynolds, just hold on a few minutes more!"

Jack looked behind him then, and realized Burke had fallen a little behind.

Jack yelled over his shoulder while trying to speed his own steps as much as possible. "Step on it, gimpy! We've got company!"

Despite his injuries, Burke did catch up and took cover next to O'Neill as the older man slid to the ground near the MALP, which had been abandoned by the other team members for a better position. Carter, Teal'c and Reynolds were holed up behind a large rock formation just slightly diagonal to the gate and about ten meters from the wormhole. The rocks were taking quite a beating from all sorts of weapons fire. Shards of gray grit sprayed down on the warriors continuously, but the trio fired back with determination. It seemed like their enemy was all around them in the woods, and they probably were, but the bad guys had a hell of a fight on their hands. The MALP was about thirty meters from the gate, in roughly a straight line from the rocks. This made the rocks a good step in cover for getting to the gate. Jack and company only had to get there.

Jack thumbed his radio, setting Daniel down on the hard ground. "Reynolds-O'Neill here. We have IDC confirmation?"

"Yes, sir. Landry is transmitting radio signal to hold the gate open for us."

If O'Neill was puzzled by Landry's involvement, he didn't show it. "We're at the MALP. Can you cover our approach? I've got Daniel. He's still alive, but hurt bad. I'll have to carry him. I found Burke, but he's got a leg wound. It won't be a quick run, Reynolds."

"Hold on one sec, Jack…ok…we've got you…go on my mark…three, two, one, MARK!"

Reynolds and Teal'c, who seemed fully recovered now, began to lay down cover fire, while Carter covered their position, taking out as many hostiles as possible to keep them from noticing the change in firing pattern and the men now approaching. Siler was down about fifteen meters from the group, laying in a pile of brush near the DHD. Jack couldn't see where he was hit, but he didn't have time to look. He took off as fast as he could go, carrying Daniel and making right for his comrades.

He made it, but barely. As the General slid behind the rocks, a staff blast tore up a chunk of dirt where he had been only a second before. Only when he got to the others did he realize Burke wasn't with him.

Reynolds looked wildly around for the missing man and cursed. "Shit! Where's Burke?"

Jack's radio crackled again.

"Jack?" The voice was unmistakable, and strong again. Jack answered, and two men began a conversation they'd had many times before.

"Burke?"

"Yeah. Get the hell outta here."

"Where are you?"

"With the sergeant. He's alive. I've got him. One of us was going to have to come back for him if we all made it to your position. I did it now to save us the trouble. Get everyone else back. I've got him."

Jack squinted through the hazy smoke of battle towards the DHD. He could barely make out the two men, but as he looked, Burke's head came up briefly, and his eyes met Jack's. Burke nodded once before he went back to his task of dragging Siler up against what little cover the DHD provided.

"Burke, you're injured. You are in no position to help Siler…"

A light laugh punctuated the static before Burke answered. "Yeah, well, maybe not…but I'm here and you're not. Get everyone out of here. I got this. Really. GO!"

Jack realized they were running out of time and options, and that Burke was right. As much as he didn't want to, he was going to have to leave and trust Burke to take care of Siler, or none of them would get off this rock.

"Alright, people, you heard the man. Move out. Let's go. Two at a time…three in the first group, with Daniel. Those of us remaining will lay down cover fire. GO!"

Teal'c looked briefly at his former CO, seeing fatigue and several cuts and bruises, before offering his strong shoulders for the most important job that needed done. "O'Neill. I believe it would be best if I carried Daniel Jackson. You have done your part. I am recovered. Let me help you."

Jack was still clinging tightly to Daniel, and made no movement to change that for several long seconds. A look of panic came into Jack's eyes, and he tightened his grip, feeling that letting go would somehow cause Daniel's tenuous hold on this world to slip. Teal'c saw the expression, and the movement, and crept to O'Neill's side. He laid a large hand on the General's shoulder, and spoke calmly.

"O'Neill. It is best. I _will_ return Daniel Jackson to Earth."

Jack blinked twice, slowly, while turning to look at Teal'c. He gradually realized his Jaffa friend was right. Teal'c was stronger and faster than the General, and he was Daniel's best chance of getting home. Jack hugged Daniel tightly to himself for a half second, and almost imperceptibly rocked back and forth a few times before burying his face in the unconscious man's neck. Daniel's days old stubble, stiffened with blood and sweat and tears, ground into Jack's face like tiny razors. Jack's eyes squeezed shut tightly for a heartbeat, while his hand cradled the battered skull of his friend, fingers digging in as deeply as he dared. Only after several deep, calming breaths did O'Neill reluctantly release his grip, thus ending the embrace and relinquishing Daniel to the big Jaffa.

The first group through the gate consisted of Teal'c, Carter, and Daniel. O'Neill recovered a P-90 and fired with Reynolds until the trio was through. As soon as they disappeared, Jack looked back over his shoulder toward the DHD. Burke was already making an uncoordinated dash for the open wormhole, half carrying and half dragging a now semi-conscious Siler with him. Jack couldn't help but wonder at the younger man's unflappability in this new, strange situation. Burke looked like he'd been sprinting toward Stargates for years. Jack stifled his amusement quickly, however, and turned to join Reynolds in providing cover fire for the pair.

When Burke and Siler were halfway to the gate, Reynolds flicked the briefest glance at O'Neill. Jack gave the tiniest nod back. It was all the communication the seasoned soldiers needed. Both men heaved themselves over the rocks in front of them and ran for the gate with every ounce of strength they had. They ran with their torsos twisted around backwards in order to point their weapons at the pursuing attackers. Streams of deadly ammunition spiraled out of the barrels of their guns, and enemies continued to fall. As the officers overtook the struggling Burke, neither stopped to help. Both knew that they were more useful as sources of firepower than as shoulders to lean on in this particular situation.

When Jack and Reynolds reached the gate, they immediately knelt on either side of the ring, facing outward and spewing death in two sweeping fan shapes from their positions. Burke and Siler continued to limp toward the gate in the center of this protective funnel. When the wounded men reached the top step of the little deck that supported the Stargate, Burke looked up and met Jack's eyes for a fraction of a second, then yelled out.

"GO!"

Jack immediately judged the distance to the gate and knew Burke was right. He, Reynolds, Burke, and Siler would hit the event horizon simultaneously if they all ran now.

Reynolds turned toward the wormhole.

Jack followed.

The two officers hit the liquid ice nearly in unison, but Reynolds was spun around suddenly as he slipped through the event horizon. Jack knew the movement was the mark of a bullet that had hit its mark.

As P5X-462 dimmed from sight, Jack thought he saw Burke stumble a half step behind him. He reached an arm backwards to catch the falling man, but he was too late. He was pulled into the vortex of the wormhole, unsure if Burke and Siler would follow. Seconds later, he came tumbling down the ramp at the SGC like he had countless times before. He knew enough to keep dodging enemy fire even after back on Earth.

O'Neill was greeted by a scene of organized chaos. Medical teams, SFs, officers, Marines, and technicians all crowded the gate room, doing their specific jobs. Reynolds was not badly wounded, if his loud arguments with the medical staff trying to treat him were any indication. Jack was only looking for two things, though, and one had already been wheeled off to the infirmary, so he settled on watching for the second. While still in a crouch after rolling to avoid the occasional weapons fire that found its way through the stargate, Jack riveted his gaze on the still open wormhole. 'Burke', he thought. 'Come on, buddy, come on. Bring Siler back. We need him, and I think I just might want you around, too. Come on.'


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

It was a long forty-five seconds before a limping man stumbled through the gate, carrying an unconscious Siler like a sack of potatoes.

As soon as the two men cleared the event horizon, four voices, belonging to Jack, Reynolds, Carter, and Teal'c, yelled in unison from four places around the room.

"CLOSE THE IRIS!"

As the metal shield spiraled into place, sealing the opening to hell, everyone in the room gave a sigh of relief. Shoulders slumped universally, and those who had just come through the gate dropped to the floor or allowed medical teams to position them on gurneys, with one notable exception. Jack O'Neill stood straighter and marched right to the control room, leaving behind a space that looked like it'd been hit by a tornado. Spent ammunition, discarded weapons, wrappers from used sterile medical supplies, and bloody footprints covered every visible surface, but Jack didn't see any of it.

He walked, calmly and coldly, straight to General Landry. He addressed the General directly, eyes not moving and face stony.

"General Landry, sir, I turn myself over to your custody and accept full responsibility for any actions taken against orders that resulted in the unauthorized rescue mission to P5X-462. All other personnel that were involved participated at my request and were acting on my direct orders. They should not be held accountable in any disciplinary proceedings."

Landry actually laughed out loud, and his response surprised the younger General. "Shut up, Jack. Don't try to take the fall for this. We both know what needed to be done here. Go visit your team, and get yourself checked out. We'll debrief when all this gets sorted out. Just stick around, ok?" The last part was delivered with a smirk, and Jack completely understood that as long as he promised not to leave the mountain, he was free to do what he pleased.

Jack smiled back, relief evident on his features.

"Thank you, sir. I understand."

"Good. Now get the hell out of here. You're making a mess of my control room."

Only then did Jack notice his appearance. He was filthy, and covered in blood. Some of it was Daniel's and some of it was his own, slowly seeping from bruised knuckles and a long, deep gash across his left calf. His right eye was puffy and blackening by the minute, and his left cheek looked like it'd been shaved with sandpaper. As always, once he noticed his injuries and the adrenaline that spiked during missions wore off, the pain hit him. Jack's head exploded, and his leg seemed to burst into flame. He suddenly felt weak. He stumbled backward a half step, catching himself on an empty chair.

Landry looked concerned, and addressed the balding man behind O'Neill at the computer. "Chief, take General O'Neill to the infirmary, and see that he gets checked out and treated."

Walter nodded curtly and stood to leave. "Yes, sir."

As the trusty sergeant helped the General out the door, Landry stared for a moment at the retreating men. He had no idea if O'Neill's legendary luck would hold. He was concerned what actions the Air Force and the IOA would take against the man, but he was also proud. Proud to know a man like Jack O'Neill, and proud of what he had done. Landry knew that this mission had been right, sanctioned or not. His eyes radiated respect, and he vowed to help all the men involved in any way he could.

XXX

The infirmary was overflowing when O'Neill arrived. Walter quickly excused himself, murmuring something about being under the same orders as Jack. There was no sign of the new CMO, Dr. Lam, as Jack looked around, but other doctors, nurses, orderlies and technicians seemed to be everywhere. They ran this way and that, checking vital signs, administering drugs, and prioritizing patients according to the severity of their injuries. Seven wounded at once was something they could easily handle, but it did require a bit of triage.

Jack sat, not even bothering with an initial screening, and joined two other men in one corner of the main treatment area. He could wait for treatment. Familiar voices greeted him.

"Sir." That one was Reynolds. The younger officer was nursing an obvious shoulder wound, but it didn't appear serious, and he'd been relegated to the non-critical group.

"O'Neill." There was Teal'c.

Jack grimaced what he hoped passed for a smile back and looked around, trying to figure out where the rest of his friends were.

His eyes found Carter soon enough. She was lying very still on a gurney, and several youngish doctors were hovering over her, cleaning, scrubbing, trimming and suturing a dozen wounds. A bag of clear fluid was slowly dripping into her veins, keeping her asleep and feeling no pain. She looked peaceful, and Jack couldn't help but be envious.

As he watched the medics work, a slow smile spread across Jack's face. It was a smile that revealed a thousand things. The General's face glowed with relief, admiration, and open affection all at once. Teal'c saw the expression and smiled warmly himself, well aware of O'Neill's thoughts. He called out to the man he considered a brother.

"O'Neill."

Jack started and looked at Teal'c, then switched back into command mode. He had allowed himself a brief moment of emotional overload, but he needed answers now. "Teal'c. Where's Daniel? Burke? The others?" Jack's head swiveled as he spoke, searching the infirmary.

Teal'c smiled patiently and answered as best he could.

"Daniel Jackson was briefly treated here, then transferred to a surgical room. Dr. Lam and several other senior clinicians are attending to him. From what I have been able to ascertain, they plan to stabilize a fractured arm and address several skull fractures at this time, then care for his other wounds later, when the trauma has had some time to subside."

Jack nodded dumbly and urged Teal'c to continue with his eyes.

He did. "Your friend Burke is also in surgery at this time. He has lost a substantial amount of blood from his leg wound, but is expected to make a full recovery."

Jack nodded again, digesting this new information. After a second, he asked another one word question.

"Siler?"

Colonel Reynolds responded this time, with a laugh. "You won't believe this. Siler got hit with a zat in our fight to dial the gate. No biggie, right? We were on that planet long enough afterwards for him to recover, right? Not Siler. Get this-he hit his head on the DHD as he fell, slicing his head open and knocking himself clean out. He briefly recovered consciousness here before passing out again. He's been patched up and moved to observation."

Jack laughed back at Reynolds. "I swear, that guy has the worst luck." 

"No doubt," said Reynolds mirthlessly. He thought for a moment, then added something respectfully. "Tell you what, though-he's our lucky charm. Not only did he finish dialing the gate before he was hit, he did a great job setting up our perimeter in that hellhole. With the number of enemy men we saw, I don't think we would have made it out of there without his help. He knows how to set booby traps, that's for sure."

Teal'c rose an eyebrow and deadpanned in response.

"Remind me to never get on Sergeant Siler's bad side."

Jack and Reynolds looked at the Jaffa for a split second before bursting into raucous laughter. Teal'c's humor was dry, but perfect for the moment.

The laughter got the attention of the medical staff, some of whom were no longer busy. An orderly headed over to the trio.

Reynolds noticed the man first. "Uh, oh, Jack. Looks like it's time for us to do our duty. I don't think these guys think laugher is the best medicine."

General O'Neill laughed harder for a moment, then his face fell as his usual infirmary sarcasm took over. "Oh, goody."

The orderly spoke to Reynolds first in mock seriousness. "Alright, gents, that's enough roughhousing in the infirmary. Better be careful or we'll break out the big needles. Which one of you guys wants to go first?"

Jack looked at Reynolds, and Reynolds looked back. Both men were injured and needed care, but neither man moved a muscle.

The orderly waited moment, looking amused, before taking matters into his own hands.

"General O'Neill, that leg wound looks nasty, and was likely made by something less than clean. You also appear a little worse for wear than Colonel Reynolds in the fistfight department. You're first."

Jack looked a little put out, but rose to limp after the orderly, while Reynolds stifled a grin. The orderly noticed the smirk, and grinned back at the younger officer. "Oh, don't worry, Colonel. We'll get a look at that shoulder shortly. We won't forget about you."

The orderly left, and Reynolds just glared at his back, while Teal'c, the healthiest of the group, smirked in silence.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Much later, Jack O'Neill woke. As his mind slowly cleared from an anesthetic induced fog, he knew exactly where he was by the soft rhythmic beeping and other vaguely mechanical noises around him.

'Ah, the infirmary,' he thought. 'Hello again.'

As Jack's eyes slowly slid open and his brain gradually became more able to focus, he looked slowly around the room. He tried not to move his head too much, as his experience with anesthesia had taught him that wasn't wise, but he did roll it partially to his left, and his hooded eyes took in a sight that surprised him.

Samantha Carter was looking right back at him, fully awake and with a bemused smile on her lips. She was lying on her side in another bed about ten feet away.

Her smile widened when his eyes made contact with hers. "Morning, sir."

Jack moved his tongue experimentally a few times to see if it would follow his commands before thickly replying. "Hey, Carter. How ya feeling?"

"Just glad to be alive, sir. You?"

"Well, I've had better days…" Jack trailed off, and thought for a moment while looking at his former 2IC. If somehow everyone had made it back from that shithole of a planet, then he was beyond fantastic, despite the itch of new sutures in several places and the searing pain in his calf that had woken him. Fear and hope sprung up in his heart simultaneously, and he asked the only question on his mind. "The others?"

Carter continued to smile, letting Jack know the answer before she spoke. The General still wanted to see all of his friends for himself before he would acknowledge that they were ok, but Sam's radiant grin was a good sign.

"Well, we've got two other bunkmates in this high class establishment. Reynolds is behind you, still sleeping off his anesthesia from the repair of a bullet wound to his right shoulder. Siler is behind me."

O'Neill craned his head a little, and saw Carter was right. A tousled blonde head stuck out above thin covers pulled high in the bed next to hers. The beleaguered sergeant appeared to be sleeping. When Jack saw the rhythmic movement of the covers, he started to feel better, and rotated his head to his right, a little too quickly for comfort. When the sudden dizziness caused by his movement subsided, Jack could see Colonel Reynolds laying in another bed, also about ten feet away. A young attractive nurse sat next to the bed with a clipboard, monitoring the recovery of the officer.

Carter didn't miss the disorientation and the small grunt Jack let out when he moved. "Careful, sir. You took quite a blow to the head, amongst other things…you should take it easy for a while."

Jack's head swung back around, more slowly this time, and he actually laughed a little at Sam. "Right. Like you're doing."

Carter's eyes dipped downward for a half second before she looked up again, amusement shining from her eyes like firelight. "That's not the point, sir. Someone has to keep you updated on what's going on around here."

The expression was not lost on Jack, and for the briefest of moments there was nothing else in the universe. Only the radiant happiness of his teammate and friend existed. Jack's chest constricted a little, and it was hard to breathe. He almost felt a touch of something like utter joy, but it fled as quickly as it had come, and Jack's inner world came crashing in on him. His eyes widened, and a sense of panic seized him. His mind, which had still been slightly muddy until now, suddenly become fully awake, and the extent of what he had brought back from P5X-462 hit him. He tried to speak, but only succeeded in moving his mouth vaguely. No sounds came out.

Carter didn't need words to know what had just happened, though. The fear on Jack's face told her everything she needed to know, and she tried to put every bit of strength she had into her next words. "Daniel's going to be ok, too, sir."

The relief Jack experienced was overwhelming. He shut his eyes, trembled a little, and took more than a few deep breaths before facing Carter again. When he looked back at her, slightly embarrassed at his loss of control, Sam just nodded her head ever so slightly, complete understanding on her face, and Jack O'Neill knew he was home. Why had he ever thought he could leave these people and work in Washington? He belonged here, with his family.

When she was sure Jack would hear her, Carter continued. "He's still in serious condition, and he has a long road ahead of him, but they think he's going to pull through without too many long term effects. He'll have some new scars, but he'll live."

Jack smiled wryly then, thinking about scars, both physical and emotional. Everyone he knew had too many of them, but at least they were alive.

Carter didn't seem to notice his thoughtfulness, and pushed on with her dialogue.

That only made the General smile more. Some things never changed. He tried to tune into Carter's words, but he was feeling groggy again, and it was difficult. He heard a few things that made their way through to his conscious mind, but mostly he was falling asleep, lulled by the voice, the infirmary sounds, and the drugs still in his system. He watched his Colonel with half-closed eyes.

"Teal'c, of course, is fine, after receiving a few more doses of Tretonin. He's taken it upon himself to watch Daniel while the rest of us are in here. He's also begun questioning everyone who was on the planet in an attempt to figure out exactly what happened there. It seems your buddy Burke, who's also doing fine despite some pretty serious reconstruction of his thigh, sabotaged several key spots in the enemy compound while you and Colonel Reynolds came after me, Daniel and Teal'c. We probably wouldn't have made it out without him."

Jack smiled a little at that, but he couldn't fight the sedation any longer. He slurred out his next word groggily. "Carter."

It took a second for Sam to register her name and the state of her General, but when she did, she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, sir. We can talk more later."

Jack grunted a little chuckle. "S'okay, Carter. Go to sleep."

With that last effort, O'Neill slipped back into the land of Morpheus, and Carter followed him shortly, her own injuries and fatigue catching up with her.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

When Jack O'Neill next woke, he heard voices that he didn't immediately recognize. He had to open his eyes to isolate the voices to a whispered conversation occurring near the foot of his bed.

Major General Hank Landry and his CMO, Dr. Carolyn Lam, were conversing in hushed tones. Jack decided to see what the big secret was all about.

"Hey. People are trying to sleep here." He meant for his voice to be strong, but it came out only sleepy. The two officers' conversation immediately stopped, and Dr. Lam rather uncomfortably excused herself, leaving Jack alone with the General.

'Uh, oh,' thought Jack. 'This is never good.'

As Landry stepped closer to the wounded younger man, his face was tight with worry, which didn't serve to relax Jack's mood one bit.

"What's goin' on, Hank?"

The older man sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face before answering.

"Jack, I was going to wait until you were up and around a bit more to tell you this, but you know you're going to land in a ton of trouble for this one, right?"

O'Neill snorted. "Don't care, General."

"I realize that, and I understand your actions. Hell, I even agree with them. Frankly, I don't want to see you take the fall for this, but you know someone has to. General Hammond and myself have pulled every string we can and called in every favor we're owed, but the powers that be are screaming for someone's head here. They consider the use of man and firepower that was needed for this mission unwise with the Ori breathing down our necks right now."

Jack outright laughed. "Oh, for crying out loud! I took four guys! And did those same powers that be ever consider that Carter and Daniel are our best weapons in the fight with the Ori?"

Landry interrupted before Jack's tirade got a full head of steam. "That's what George and I have been saying. No one is arguing SG-1's importance, merely the unauthorized mission to retrieve them and the way in which it was carried out."

"General, with all due respect, bottom line this for me, ok? I'm tired."

"Bottom line? Ok. The President and several of those in Washington that I would consider friends of the Stargate program have cut a deal. Everyone goes free in this, no disciplinary proceedings whatsoever for the personnel involved if you take full responsibility."

"Didn't I already do that, sir?"

"I wasn't done, Jack."

O'Neill held up a hand in a placating gesture. "Sorry."

"It's ok. The stipulation is that you not only take full responsibility, but that you retire. Permanently this time. You are not to be involved in the Stargate program in any way, shape, or form. The hostiles, so to speak, want you out of their hair. If you leave and never turn up again, they'll forget this ever happened."

"No court martial?"

"No."

"The others get off?"

"Yes."

"Done."

"Jack, I suggest you think about this a while…"

"General, with all due respect, what's to think about? I've been thinking about retiring for a long time anyway, and the desk jockey routine was driving me wacko. Besides, I'd rather go out with a bang than with a whimper."

"I'd say you managed that."

Jack grinned a lopsided grin and answered with more than a little sarcasm.

"You betcha."

Landry smiled back and turned to leave, his job done. "Get some rest, Jack. You've still got a lot of healing to do before they let you out of here."

Jack followed the advice of the older general, and fell asleep with a smile on his face. This was working out a lot better than he'd expected, and that was a rare thing in his life.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Forty-eight hours later, Jack was released from the infirmary. He was still confined to base, but at least he could move around, much to his relief. He'd been getting restless in bed, especially when everyone around him was disappearing. Reynolds had gone first, then Siler. Finally, even Sam had been released, leaving Jack alone in the large room. Jack suspected his extended stay had more to do with folks wanting to keep an eye on him than his injuries, but he really didn't care. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and as much as he was loathe to admit it, the rest was nice.

O'Neill was sporting a nice black eye, and a new row of stitches on his brow, but he'd been cleared neurologically from his head wound, so he dressed and headed straight to the trauma ICU. He found a sleeping Daniel Jackson there, and the sight brought tears of relief to his eyes. Teal'c was sitting with Daniel, and after Jack assured himself that his friend was indeed alive and breathing on his own, O'Neill reluctantly left to take his first real shower in days, which was desperately needed. He felt refreshed afterwards, and started back to Daniel's room.

He just had one stop to make first.

XXX

O'Neill stood in the doorway for a full minute before slowly limping over to the bed. This patient was all alone in a single room, and Jack wondered a bit at the preferential treatment until he realized that it was a security precaution. The man in the bed had to be isolated from what was going on around him, as he wasn't SGC personnel.

As Jack neared the bed, the man's head slowly turned to look at him. A small nod greeted the General and then a sarcastic voice followed.

"Hey. Look who's finally up and around."

Jack grinned down at the man in the bed. "Look who's talking."

The patient snorted. "Good point."

Jack ran his eyes over the wounded man before asking the obvious question. "How bad's the damage?"

The slightly younger man shrugged. "Ah, not too bad. They say I should get out of here tomorrow."

"Sweet."

"Yeah, I'll live."

"They read you the riot act?"

"Ah, you know, the usual. Made me sign a confidentiality agreement and all that stuff. No biggie. Guess they checked me out and thought I wasn't a huge threat. I'm free to go once I'm out of here."

Jack repeated his one word approval. "Sweet."

A curtain of silence dropped down over the two men then, and lasted an uncomfortably long time. O'Neill began shifting his weight from side to side, tapping on the bed railing, and looking anywhere but at the man under the sheets.

Finally, neither man could take it anymore, and both spoke in the same instant.

"Jack."

"Burke."

Jack waved his hand lightly. "You go first."

"I was just going to say thanks."

Jack hadn't expected gratitude, and his voice echoed his confusion. "For what? Getting you shot?"

Burke snorted again and shook his head. "For making me feel useful again, and for trusting me. It means a lot, especially from you."

Jack was obviously uncomfortable with Burke's sentiments, and he nervously laughed before responding. "Think nothing of it. Funny thing is, I was actually going to thank you."

"Me?" Burke waved dismissively. "None needed. I was just helping a buddy out."

"Burke, I mean it. I wouldn't have made it out of there with Daniel without you, and Siler would be dead by now, too, if not all of us. I heard about your little stunt with the compound's fuel tanks and barracks. Nice work, to take out the troops before they had a chance to come after us."

Burke gave a little sideways nod and shrugged. "Hey, it was war."

"Yeah…well…still…smart move…it probably made a big difference…thanks."

"What'd I tell you before? Anytime, anywhere. Still applies."

Jack looked down on the balding man in the bed and smiled a tiny grin. "Back at ya, Burke."

"Whatever. Get out of here and go look after the geek."

Jack laughed out loud then. He hadn't heard Daniel called a geek in a long time, and certainly not by someone who'd only met him twice, both times in situations hardly worthy of the title. He wondered whether the archeologist was just that transparent, or if Burke had done a little 'research' on Daniel Jackson after Nicaragua. He decided it didn't matter, and that he needed to heed Burke's advice. Daniel needed him, and he needed to go. Jack nodded at good bye at the wounded man and turned to leave.

Burke called after Jack's retreating back.

"Hey, Jack!"

Jack turned, halfway to the door. "Yeah?"

"See you on the outside sometime?"

Jack nodded again, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Maybe so, Burke, maybe so."

With that, Jack turned and finished his journey out of the room, leaving a smiling patient behind.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

When O'Neill returned to Daniel's bedside a few minutes later, he was surprised to see a second bed had been moved into the room. He was even more surprised to see who was in it.

Samantha Carter lay quietly in the bed, conversing with Teal'c, who was still standing guard over the unconscious archeologist. Jack limped over to the newcomer, questions in his eyes.

"Carter, Teal'c. What's going on?"

Teal'c nodded in greeting and answered. "Colonel Carter has suffered a minor setback in her condition, O'Neill."

Jack's brow furrowed in concern. "Carter?"

"It's nothing, sir. Lam is making me check in daily because I had so many contaminated wounds, especially on my feet and legs. It seems I've got a bit of a fever today. She's worried I might be coming down with some sort of infection. She re-admitted me for observation and IV antibiotics."

"And they let you in here?" Jack had spent enough time in medical facilities to know that infected patients weren't generally allowed anywhere near an ICU of any kind.

Teal'c's deep voice answered, and his words carried an undercurrent of subdued sarcasm. "Dr. Lam was convinced to make an exception to the usual policies in this instance. It seems she believes it will be best if Colonel Carter stays in here with Daniel Jackson."

Jack merely grunted in response. He knew damn well that the doctor had merely given up when faced with a determined Jaffa and a more determined Carter. If she wanted to keep Carter under watch, she'd have to do it on Sam's terms. Jack had made the same deal many times. He almost felt bad for the physician…almost, but not quite.

Jack looked down on Sam then, growing more concerned. "You're ok, though?"

Sam nodded up at the General. "Yes, sir. It's just a precaution."

"You sure?"

"Yes, sir. Do you really think they'd let me be in here if it were serious?"

O'Neill leaned his head to one side and half nodded in a gesture of satisfaction with that logic. "Good point."

Jack and Sam grew quiet then, and Teal'c took the opportunity to speak.

"I am in need of sustenance. I shall take my leave of you for the moment. Do either of you require anything?"

Sam shook her head gently. "No, Teal'c. Thank you."

Jack also declined, and the Jaffa bowed his head once in respect before leaving.

A long but comfortable silence followed Teal'c's departure. Sam rested quietly in her bed while Jack absently flipped through a magazine in the hard plastic chair nearby. Daniel slept on soundly, oblivious to everything.

After a few moments, Jack stood and crossed the room to stand next to Daniel's bed. His experienced eyes took in the younger man's injuries, and his blood began to boil at the atrocities that had been heaped upon his friend. His anger subsided quickly, though, replaced by a gentle caring concern. Jack's hand traced his friend's brow tenderly while his mind made note of what was likely in Daniel's future. Jack knew that the myriad of cuts and bruises that covered his friend like splattered paint were just the tip of the injury iceberg here. Daniel's right leg had been broken twice, several ribs were shattered, and he was missing a few teeth. Daniel had already had facial reconstructive surgery to repair fractured cheek and nasal bones, and his left arm was encased in a fiberglass cast. His road to full recovery would be a long one. More surgery, physical therapy, and a trips to the dentist would likely take up all of Daniel's time for many months to come.

Jack sighed, thinking of the arduous journey ahead. He knew Daniel could fully recover, and Lord knows the surgeons had already made him look nearly normal, but this wouldn't be easy, and Jack wished he could lift the burden from his friend.

As the small sound escaped his lips, Jack was reminded he wasn't alone. A soft whisper floated to him, barely audible above the machinery in the room, but as clear as crystal to Jack.

"Thanks for coming after us, sir."

Jack continued to stare at Daniel for another long moment before turning back to look at Sam.

Jack leaned on Daniel's bed rail for a moment and just looked at his former 2IC. He shrugged, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle as a warm summer breeze. "It was an acceptable risk. You just keep getting better, ok?"

Carter smiled, a little blearily. "Yes, sir."

"You know you don't have to call me that anymore. I'm retired."

Carter's grin widened. "Yes, sir."

Jack began to laugh, and before he knew it, he'd crossed the space between the two beds again. He looked down at the blue-eyed blonde before him and did his best to be serious.

"You are impossible, you know that?"

Colonel Samantha Carter began to giggle then. The stress of the last week, the pain medications she was on, and simple pleasure at seeing Jack again made her uncharacteristically giddy. A light chuckle turned into a full blown fit as she gasped out another two word answer.

"Yes, sir."

Jack lost it then, too, and laughed out loud. His laughter joined Sam's, and for a moment their merriment overpowered all other sounds in the room. When they finally settled down, no words could be said between the two old friends for several long seconds, but it was Carter who spoke first, her voice shakily bringing them back to the situation at hand.

"Christ, that hurt. Don't make me laugh, sir. It's a bitch with broken ribs."

Jack sobered immediately, and put a hand on Carter's shoulder, remembering her injuries.

"You ok? You need something? Want me to call the doc?"

"No, sir. I'm ok, really, just…ow…"

Carter's hand began to slowly massage her tender side, and Jack's eyes softened. His hand began to tremble ever so slightly, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips, as if in preparation for speech. His lips moved then, but no sound came out. He sighed.

Sam noticed his discomfort and looked up at him quizzically.

"What?"

Jack seemed unable to find his voice for a second, and he stumbled over his next few words. "I…uh…nothing…it's just…"

Sam's voice was as soft as the touch of a feather. Her eyes radiated only concern.

"What?"

Jack took a deep breath and steeled himself before answering. He squared up his shoulders and looked Carter straight in the face. "Well, it's just that, all joking aside, things could be different now. You really could drop the sir…if you wanted to." Jack ducked his head down and murmured the last part, as if afraid of Sam's reaction.

Sam's eyes enlarged to the size of dinner plates for just a second at Jack's statement. She hadn't expected an honest, raw, emotional response. She was so used to dancing around the topic of her relationship with Jack O'Neill that to be confronted with it directly surprised her for a minute.

By the time Jack lifted his head to check her reaction, though, Sam's face had softened, and while there was a tiny bit of apprehension in her eyes, there was also something else. A mixture of hope and tenderness danced behind the blue. Sam's hand left her ribs and reached up to trace Jack's jaw line as he leaned over her bed. Her next utterance was not under her control.

"Jack…"

O'Neill smiled at Carter's use of his name, and leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Sam's forehead before pulling away to look into the face he'd seen so many times in his dreams. His hand traced Sam's cheek. She smiled, leaning into the touch.

Neither Jack nor Sam noticed the slight movement from the neighboring bed, but as Daniel Jackson's eyes slid open, an involuntary smile crawled its way across his features. There was no way he could stop it, even though it pulled a little at his wounds.

He didn't want to suppress it anyway. It felt too good, despite the physical twinges it caused.

Daniel licked his lips a few times, preparing to speak.

A soft but strong and rather annoyingly amused voice brought Jack and Sam out of their shared moment of tenderness a second later.

"You know, there's better places for that sort of thing…"

Two heads, one blonde and one silver, whipped around to look at Daniel as he spoke. Jack bowed his head a little, and Sam's pale cheeks turned as red as a carnation in bloom. She stifled a giggle and grinned at Daniel from under hooded eyes.

Daniel grinned back, and for a moment nothing was said in words but three pairs of eyes said more than could be written in a hundred books. Jack broke the silence first.

"Daniel, how long have you been awake?"

Daniel's grin grew wider. "Long enough, Jack. Long enough."

Jack nodded a little and looked down at the floor for a second before looking back at his friend. He looked at him for a long time, studying his features for any signs of judgment or disapproval. There were none. Daniel's eyes shone with a genuine simple amusement and with true happiness. After what seemed an eternity, Daniel's eyes flicked quickly to look at Sam before settling back on Jack. Daniel nodded his head ever so slightly in understanding, and his eyes seemed to go soft and warm.

It was all the sign Jack needed.

Jack crossed the space between the two beds in three long strides. As he reached Daniel's side, he hesitated for only a second before crouching down and bringing his face level with Daniel's on the edge of the bed. He pointed his finger in mock lecturing.

"Well, you just forget about anything you saw, and get yourself well."

Daniel stifled a laugh. "Sorry to disappoint, Jack, but I think it might take me a while this time. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Whatever. You'll be up and around in no time."

"Thanks to you."

Jack shifted a little, and avoided Daniel's eyes briefly. When his moment of discomfort had passed, Jack's brown orbs met blue. "Not a problem, Daniel."

"Still, thanks."

Silence fell between the two men for a minute, and Jack slowly stood, his knees protesting his time on the floor. As Jack creaked his way upright, Daniel reached one hand up to touch his own forehead, feeling the line of new sutures there. His brow furrowed.

Jack noticed. "What?"

"It's nothing. Really. I just…how bad?"

"Well, Dannyboy, you'll have some new scars, but you'll live. It'll be ok."

And Jack meant it. For the first time in a long time, it did seem like everything would be ok. He felt like he was home. His team was alright. He was at peace. The decision about whether or not to retire had been consuming Jack for a long time. Now that the choice had been made for him and it was over and done with, it felt good. He knew it was time for him to let someone else take the fight to the bad guys. He was back where he belonged, with his family, and while the Ori and a thousand other evil types were still out there, someone else could deal with it for a while. There would always be evil. It would never end. This last experience with your standard malicious humans had proven that. The world would always need saving, but what good was saving the world if you couldn't enjoy it? Jack O'Neill had hidden behind his duties for far too long, not allowing himself to really live. That was going to change right now.

Jack briefly touched Daniel's face in the lightest of caresses and then looked over at a now drowsy Sam for a moment before turning his eyes back to Daniel. The archeologist had fallen back asleep, Jack's hand still resting on his neck. Jack didn't know where things were going to go from here, but as he looked at these two people, the two most important people in his world, it didn't matter. Jack's world had been saved. He could figure the rest out as he went.

A smile crept across Jack's face. He reluctantly removed his hand from Daniel, and after arranging his little plastic chair just so, Jack sat, leaned back, propped his feet up on Daniel's bed, and continued his familiar vigil. He'd be there forever if need be, watching and waiting in case he was needed. Teal'c rejoined O'Neill shortly, and the four strangers who had become a family so long ago were together again. For now, and for always.


	16. Chapter 16

**EPILOGUE**

Jack O'Neill smirked at the man across from him for a moment before uttering a single word.

"Checkmate."

Jack's shorter, rounder, and balder opponent sighed, leaned back in his chair, and scrutinized the chessboard in front of him. After a brief, fruitless search for a way to save his king, he shrugged.

"Well, that's three in a row to you. I'm out."

Jack began to jokingly argue. "Oh, come on, Burke. You know I just got lucky. You'll probably win the next five. Let's play again."

Jack's voice was almost wheedling, and Burke laughed a little as he stood and stepped away from the overturned shipping crate that was serving as a table on the porch of Jack's cabin. His expression left no doubt that he knew Jack's victories had nothing to do with luck.

"Nope. I'm done. It's about time for me to go, anyway."

Jack frowned grumpily. "Where do you have to be that's so important?"

"I happen to have a date, if you must know, with a pretty little thing from town that I met the other night." Burke hesitated, then spoke again. "Look, it's not my fault you're stuck up here and bored out of your mind. Where's your lady, anyway?"

Jack shrugged. "Dunno. Probably out shopping or something."

Burke laughed out loud for a full thirty seconds before he managed to speak. Jack began to chuckle, too.

"You mean out fighting some alien bad guys on some other planet, more like."

Jack snorted. "Something like that."

Burke looked at his friend with admiration. "Don't know how you do it, man."

"Do what?"

"Live with knowing what she's doing out there."

Jack grunted. "Well, I won't pretend I don't have some sleepless nights over it, but that's nothing new, and even if I could stop her, which I can't, I wouldn't."

Burke grunted back. "Duty, honor, sacrifice, and all that?"

"Something like that," murmured Jack, taking a sip of his beer.

"Still," mumbled Burke, "it's tough, isn't it?" Burke reached for his jacket as he spoke, still preparing to leave.

"What?"

"Being on this end, missing the action."

Jack shrugged again. "I manage."

"Oh, whatever, Jack," laughed Burke. "I can see the frustration coming off you. You're bored as hell up here, buddy. Fishing and solitude is great, but only for a while. This is as bad as D.C. for you. And you know it."

Jack's long fingers drummed on the chessboard. He looked at Burke with hooded eyes. A spark of something alive danced behind his pupils. Burke recognized it for what it was-a beast that thrived on conflict, aggression, and battle. Proof he was right. The beast quickly vanished, however, and O'Neill merely shrugged yet again, silently.

It was a long time before Jack spoke. Burke looked out over Jack's still pond, watching the sun sink lower toward the horizon and appreciating the beautiful Minnesotan evening. Jack's voice startled him a little with its roughness when he finally answered.

"I wouldn't go that far. I stay busy. I'm fine."

Burke pulled his jacket over his shoulders and shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

O'Neill's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Burke? What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Burke said with unconvincing innocence. "It's just that…in my line of work, I could always use a man of your rather singular…talents."

Jack's eyebrows lifted briefly, and he gave a slight nod while a knowing smile crept across his face.

"I'll keep that in mind." O'Neill didn't pretend not to be a little interested.

Burke nodded back. "Yeah, ok. Just let me know. Looks like my cue to go is here, though, so I'll see you around, Jack."

O'Neill looked up at his friend. "Yeah. Ok. Later, Burke."

Burke walked the short distance from the porch to his truck and waved once as he climbed inside and started the engine. As the vehicle pulled out of the drive, it was replaced by another. Jack left his hand up in the air and waved a fresh greeting to the newcomer as a wide, toothy smile cracked his face in two.

Three minutes later, Jack O'Neill pulled Daniel Jackson into a crushing bear hug and patted him on the back twice before giving the younger man's hair a loving ruffle. His smile, if anything, was wider than it had been, and his soul was warm with joy. Daniel had limped to the porch, but he'd done it without help, and while he still bore the marks of his recent captivity, most of his physical wounds were mended. His emotional scars were another story, but he was battling his demons as well as could be expected. He would cry a few more tears on the shoulders of his friends and would wake from a few more nightmares before his struggle became only a memory, but he would prevail. It would be a long time before he joined Sam and Teal'c in the field again, but he would.

And while Jack would be staying behind, he would always be someone any one of them could come back to.

Like chocolate cake, old books, and candlelit meditation, Jack O'Neill would always mean home.

**END**

_AN:This story has inspired several tie-in stories that will be coming soon. They may be posted as additional epilogues here, but I suspect they will be posted as solo works (or both). I will try to keep everyone notified when changes are made, but I can give no gaurantees. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this fic. Your input means the world, and helped shape this story along the way. You are invaluable and treasured. Thank you._

_Long live fandom. _

_Update: August 11, 2007-first tie-in story posted. "A Long Road Home"_


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